Off By Heart

The mixed drink slid easily down my throat, the tart aftertaste the only indicator of the high alcohol content. If one wasn’t careful, or was naïve enough to believe that the lack of bite meant that there was little or no alcohol, a couple cups of this and you would be puking your guts out in the front lawn, or, as the maker of this dangerous concoction probably intended, be making out with some unknown stranger in the back of his car. Definitely one of Matt’s creations.

Speaking of my best friend, as I scanned the room, my eyes landed on him, sitting on the couch with his head tilted back, laughing at something Lee had said. A smile pull the corners of my lips as I watched the corners of his eyes crinkle and I heard the deep rumble of his laugh from across the room, above the pounding dubstep that filled the small house.

Normally I would have gone over, perched myself on the arm of couch next to him, and joined him and the rest of my friends as they carelessly passed a joint between them. Normally I would have swung my legs over, rested them in his lap, and played with his hair as the conversations ebbed and flowed around us. Normally I would be glued to his side for the duration of the party, sipping my drink as my buzz came over me, until one of us wanted to leave.

But tonight was no a normal night, and the situation between my best friend and I was tense at best. So instead, I shook my head, downing the rest of my drink and made my way into the kitchen in search of hard alcohol. Mixed drink was not going to get my through the night.

Emerging from the throng of people, I entered the kitchen and reached to open the top right cabinet, where I knew the boys hid their alcohol. Seeing a bottle of Cuervo, I grinned a pulled it down, pouring a good amount of the tequila into my cup.

“Oi, I paid good money for that, Hadley!” I turned and saw a swaying Matt Kean addressing me, cup in hand and eyes glazed over.

“Aw, Vegan, don’t you want to help a friend in need?” I pleaded with him, widening my eyes and sticking out my bottom lip slightly. I finished pouring, capped the bottle and put it back in its obvious hiding spot.

“Eh, I guess. Haven’ seen you here in over a week! What’s happ-“ He was cut off by a shout of “VEGAN GET YOUR ASS IN HERE, THE GAMES STARTING!”

“Better not make a drunk Oli mad, Kean,” I chuckled sipping on my tequila and nodding my head toward the living room where the beer pong table was set up. I watched him stumble his way to the other room with relief. I definitely did not want to have to share with anyone why I hadn’t been to the house for nine days. That subject was better left untouched.

I worked my way back into the party, stopping to say hello to a few familiar faces. There were more unfamiliar ones than familiar ones, however. The boys’ parties always got so packed with random people and tonight it felt as if all of Sheffield was jammed into the small two-story house.

But alas, all those people couldn’t help me avoid what I was so desperately trying to ignore by downing all the mind-numbing alcohol.

“Matty, honestly!” she giggled, just loud enough for me to hear and to pull my attention from a conversation I was having with a girl from my university math class.

There she was, perched on his lap in the spot that I usually occupied, playfully shrieking as his hands tickled her small waist. I watched as he stopped tickling her, and nuzzled her ear as she took a dainty sip from her red cup. She turned to say something to one of her friends that standing nearby and that was when his gaze met mine.

It was the first time we had made eye contact in almost two weeks, and it was the only interaction I’d had with him since the “incident.” I gasped and turned away, apologizing to my classmate as I hurriedly pushed through the crowd again, this time with a different destination.

I made it to the back porch, and finished the rest of the tequila in my cup. I leaned down to set it on the ground and perked up as the familiar scent of smoke reached my nose. Straightening up I came face to face with none other than Tom Sykes.

“Can I bum one?” I asked desperately, itching to feel the burn in my lungs. His inquisitive blue eyes surveyed me, watched as I pulled my flannel – Matt’s flannel – tighter around myself and pushed my hair from my face out of habit.

“Haven’t you quit?” He asked even as his hand dug into the pocket of his leather jacket to produce a pack of Camel Crushes. I greedily took the cigarette he offered and dangled is from my lips as I leaned in to the awaiting flame of his lighter.

“I just really need one tonight,” I replied as I exhaled the sweet smoke in relief. He narrowed his eyes at me as he too exhaled the smoke from his cigarette, taking it out of his mouth and holding it between his fingers as he flicked the ash.

“And this wouldn’t happen to ‘ave anything to do with Nicholls, would it?” he asked as he raised an eyebrow at me.

“He told you?” I cringed, taking another drag to calm myself down. My hands shook, whether a result of the cold or my anxiety about approaching this subject, I was not sure.

“’Course he did. I’m his best mate, ‘sides you. Did take a lot of prodding though,” Tom said, nonchalantly putting out his Camel against the banister and reaching to grab his beer. “And honestly, Frey, I think you’re bein’ a little immature ‘bout all this.”

“Me?!” I was outraged. “What the fuck am I supposed to do in this situation? Just go on living and pretending like everything just peachy and the whole goddamn incident never happened?”

“No, tha’s not what I’m sayin’. I’m sayin’ you should try not to avoid the guy like he’s the plague and actually talk to him about it. He’s pretty torn up, you know, and I think he just wants to talk to ya,” Tom said in a calm tone, those ever-analyzing eyes boring into my own.

“It’s not like he’s tried to talk to me either, Tom. And he sure doesn’t look too torn up about anythin’,” I spat, putting out my half smoked cigarette as I turned to head back into the party.

“Looks can be deceiving, Freya. Just try ‘n talk to ‘im.” I rolled my eyes and pushed open the screen door to be enveloped in the over-heated party once again. I wasn't drunk enough to deal with this.

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Awhile later, and many drinks deeper, I found myself pressed up against a wall talking to none other than Jona Weinhofen. His right hand rested on the wall next to my head, his left clutching an almost empty beer bottle as he smiled down at me. I pressed my hand against his chest, half to steady myself, as I giggled at his impression of Vegan drunkenly trying to seduce a dog on their last tour.

I sipped the straight tequila I was still drinking, not sure of how many cups I’d had. The tequila had stopped burning my throat awhile back, and I dizzily thought that it tasted like limes. I looked up into his smiling eyes, smirking as his story ended and the laughter died from my lips. I vaguely caught myself thinking that I was glad that Jona had joined the band, because he sure was something to look at.

Just as I was contemplating what it would be like to kiss the tall blonde man when I was yanked to the side by a hand on my wrist. I stumbled into a body that smelled like a combination of weed and Downy, and before my drunk mind could connect the smell I knew so well to the person it belonged to, I was pushed through a door and into a bathroom. The lights flicked on and the door slammed. Blinking from the sudden brightness I looked up at my captor.

He stood against the door, glaring down at me, with his arms crossed over his chest. I knew that look. He was pissed. Royally pissed. And it took a lot to get Matt Nicholls - easy-going Matt Nicholls - that angry. And I was the cause.

“What the fuck has gotten your panties in such a twist?” I hiccupped, steadying my swaying body against the sink.

“You know exactly what,” he responded, taking a step closer to me, causing my to back up fully against the counter, my already precariously upright position even more compromised by his advancing form. “Do you think you can just come into my house and flirt with my bandmate, after not talking to me for two fucking weeks?”

“I wasn’t flirting with Jona, you asshole, we were having a friendly conversation,” I said, pushing off of the stable counter, and pushing on his sweater-clad chest.

“Ye were practically fucking him!” Matt hissed, taking my hands off his chest and putting them on either side of my body against the counter. He kept them covered with his own.

“You have no right!” I shouted in his face.

“I have no right? After what happened, I have no right?” he spat and narrowed his eyes.

“You can’t just kiss me and then expect me to pretend like nothings different, like everything’s the same,” I responded, trying to lean away from him and twist out of his grip.

“Is that how you’re playing it? That I kissed ya, and ye had no part of it? Like ye didn’t kiss me back? Like you didn’t feel nothin'?” he said, his voice softening as he looked me in his eyes, his face so close. His lips so close.

And all of a sudden, it was happening again. I pressed my lips to his and I felt it again. My head spun, and it wasn’t just from the alcohol. He parted his lips, and I parted mine and we were kissing, really kissing. I was really kissing my best friend, and it was the most intoxicating feeling. The same exact feeling I got when this same exact thing happened nine days ago. He wrapped his arms smoothly around my waist, pulling me closer against his body and I used my now free hands to stroke down his back. He slid his hands under my thighs, lifting me so I was sitting against the counter and he was pressed between my parted legs. He bit my bottom lip and I tugged his hair in response.

He pulled away with a moan. That sound pulled me out of my haze and as he started kissing down my neck my mind caught up to me and I realized what was happening. Again. I pushed my hands against his chest and he pulled back from me, his eyes confused and lips swollen from our kissing.

“Stop it! This can’t happen again!” I shout at him, sliding off the counter and standing, trying to steady my wobbling knees. “You have a girlfriend, Matt.”

“But I can’t stop thinking about you, Frey. Ever since the other day, you’ve consumed me, I can’t help it,” he responded, tugging at his hair, desperation etched into his face.

“Well stop your thoughts, Matt, this can’t happen. We can’t happen. We’re friends and that’s all we are,” I insisted, pushing past him and pulling open the door.

“Freya – “ he started, but I was already pushing through the crowd, making my way to the front door. Hot tears built up behind my eyes, and I tried urgently to make it out of the house before I started crying.
I made it out the door, jumped off the porch, and ran the three blocks to my apartment complex, crying all the while. This was a mess.